Shadow of Love
by Anna Catherine
Summary: Takes place after First Date, Buffy and Spike stand in the rain and muse over their relationship.


Shadow of Love

The clouds melted against each other, causing loud crashing noises when thunder erupted.

Her eyes tilted forward, staring at the puddles of rain, splashing in the concrete holes on the street. For an instant she contemplated whether or not she should step outside, knowing all along that she'd much rather stumble into the darkness and wet raindrops than continue listening to the potentials argue about whose soda was whose.

She walked around the split in the wall from the windows to the doorway and found Spike staring out into the rain as well. Buffy smiled. He was thinking and even feeling the very same way. He curved around, looked at her and let a small smile peak upon his lips before he himself opened the door, signaling for her to step out before him.

Buffy's thoughts cascaded before her, as she watched the rain spill across her shoes. She could feel his body beside her. Quite often she found herself wishing for a heartbeat trembling near his chest.

Things had been different between them, flashes of the past few months glided around in her brain but the most recent memory was of their hands touching. His eyes mobilized in fear while she searched for any bruise she might've left him. Her thighs had wrapped around his waist, the potentials watching in searing interest. It was his hand on top of hers she committed to memory. Something about their hands together, as one, was different. It wasn't her pushing him away. It was him that was more afraid. In a way she understood that, respected that, tried rather frequently to leave the whole thing alone.

Spike didn't speak; neither did Buffy. They stood in comfortable silence until she stirred ahead, bending over to rip her shoes and socks off. He watched her soft blonde hair getting wet and wondered what she was doing but followed her lead.

It had been so long since it had actually rained in Sunnydale. The haze grazing the sun made it so dark he could actually go outside in the hours before night came. His eyes glanced over her hands while she tossed her socks to the side, nonchalantly, so unlike her. He'd noticed for quite some time that she was different from the girl he'd left behind. Not as resentful or pained, less suffering and more understanding.

Buffy turned around, pointing to the puddles in the street raising her eyebrows. She could feel herself aching to take his hand, guide him to the street and puddles. _The urge couldn't be fulfilled_, she told herself. He walked beside her, bare feet as well. She noticed his toenails were painted black and laughed.

"Who did that?" Buffy crinkled her lips still staring at his toenails as they stopped at the end of the sidewalk, both soaking wet. He looked down and laughed himself, shrugging his shoulders. Buffy saw a raindrop flicker on his eyelash, causing him to blink more than usual. She reached up brushing away the water with her fingertip.

"You did," she answered for him realizing that she hadn't really had to ask. He nodded his head "yes", stepping into a puddle near the edge of the sidewalk, a puddle she herself had been eyeing for some time.

Thunder pounded above them, causing Buffy to squirm a little at the noise, stepping closer to Spike. Her feet dipped into the same puddle his feet were rested in. She observed that he pulled his feet away from her and felt a pang rise in her chest. It had been so long since they'd been alone and been close, even if they'd never been specifically close emotionally, which was what she now desired but could never utter out loud.

Buffy was testing him, seeing what he would do with their bodies only inches from one another, wanting him to make the first move to touch her.

"Scared of the thunder love?" Spike asked, looking from the darkened sky back to her while he spoke. She wrestled with the idea of moving _even_ closer to him. It had happened so many times before, finding comfort in the undead but somehow this was different. He didn't respond by touching her or pulling her towards him and although she wished for a heartbeat, a pulse thumbing through his veins, it would never come.

After a brief thoughtful minute she replied, "Me? Scared of a little thunder? No way," causing them both to laugh. He was more beautiful to her, standing in the rain in front of her, soaking wet, hair plastered to his head, "soul-having" and all, than he had ever been before. All the moments they'd shared together didn't add up to him and her, alone, underneath a blanket of restless sky, catching private glances at one another.

Spike could feel the heat rising between them, a comfortable desire but dismissed it as something coming from just him; his own feelings would never be hers. He took a risk anyway, reaching for the strands of damp hair that had encased themselves against her forehead and slid them behind her ear. He could hear her sigh a little, under his touch and almost kept his palm across her cheek. But his nerves were too weak, unstable, and he pulled away before her eyes could look up at him longingly.

Buffy gulped down the dryness in her throat, only then realizing that her clothes were clinging to her, not something he would've pointed out but obviously had noted in his brain. His hands were shaking, but not from the cold or the dampness that reeked havoc along his clothes and uncovered skin. They were shaking from being afraid of the one person who had ever treated him like a man. His love for her was deep enough to cut through the earth and build another ocean, yet his hands couldn't stay still enough to touch her longer than a second.

The haze moved transversely along the sky, casting a glow of shadowy darkness. Spike closed his eyes, relishing the moment, attempting to remember every little detail before it would be swiped from his grasp. Her body twisted near his own. She slipped her feet closer to his in the puddle. Spike opened his eyes to see a dreamlike desire set before him. Although she didn't speak, not very much to him lately, her jerky movements belied her reaction to his presence. In a way, for some time, that had been enough for him, never asking for more; a part of him expecting less.

Buffy opened her lips; flecks of water dipping into tattered and worn skin from where her teeth had bitten dried flesh. "Spike," she whispered, watching him closely.

The sky was getting heavier with anticipation, grumbling loudly. He shifted his legs, leaning to the side to get a better look at her. But the words Buffy wished to speak, broke off in pieces as the sky exploded above them. Desperation leaked inside of her, cascading down from her brain to her heart, making track marks on her veins.

He raised his eyebrows curious about what was filling her head and yet worrying about her getting so wet in the process.

"We should get back inside," he commanded, whirling around and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Buffy stood still for a moment, contemplating the things she wanted to say but finding no release for them. Instead of talking and telling him she wanted to touch him without it being a fumbling motion or nerves striking both of them, she twisted her feet out of the puddle.

It wasn't difficult for Spike to react to help her up onto the sidewalk. Without thinking, he put his hand out in a gentleman manner, something he'd learned to do long before he'd ever met her. Buffy stared at his hand considerately before placing her palm on top of his, both of them closing their knuckles to lapse around the others. Spike didn't pull away, not this time while they both took a stride back to the house.

Hand in hand they walked, side by side.

A realization of what their relationship was never came for either of them. Rain still gushing down upon them. No one was watching from inside of the house, otherwise she was sure he would've dropped her hand or she his, with a twinge of reluctance.

As they reached the outside of the doorway, both of them bent over for their shoes, smiling at one another, fingertips still entwined.

"Well," he said, staring at her hand pressed to his. Spike saw a fleck of sadness in Buffy's eyes when he looked up at her. He couldn't place it, wasn't sure he'd want to know what the emotion was. He always assumed it had nothing to do with him. To him, redemption didn't come with the girl he loved, loving him back. Buffy smiled, weakly, watching him drop her hand, swinging his, back to his side.

"Better get back inside and dry up," she laughed brushing past him, their bodies briefly clinging to the other before crossing the threshold. He closed the door behind them, noting that the world outside was much better then the one on the inside.


End file.
